


Though Sorrow Endures

by enigmaticblue



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-09
Updated: 2010-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you turn to the only person you’ve got left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though Sorrow Endures

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt “zombie apocalypse.” Set during 2.05, "Pavor Nocturnus."

Will stared out at the destruction. The world seemed emptier, darker, without Magnus in it.  She had been their bedrock, the one person Will had believed would be able to stop this plague from spreading—and now she was gone.

 

He put a hand against the window and felt the chill of the glass. Night had descended, but he didn’t think he would be able to sleep.

 

“Hey.”

 

Will didn’t turn at the sound of Kate’s voice. “Hi.”

 

“You okay?” she asked tentatively.

 

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the window. “No, I’m really not.”

 

Kate leaned against the wall next to him. “Yeah. You know, I hate zombies.”

 

The comment delivered in a wry tone was pure Kate, and he felt an unwilling smile pull at his lips. “Me, too, but technically, they’re not zombies.”

 

“Close enough,” Kate replied. “Will, I’m sorry.”

 

“We all lost her.” Will rolled his head to look at Kate. “I’m not the only one grieving.”

 

Her grave expression conveyed just how deeply she felt Magnus’ loss as well. “No, you’re not.”

 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Will confessed softly. “Without Magnus, we don’t have a prayer of stopping this plague. Eventually...”

 

“Now is _not_ eventually,” Kate insisted with quiet fire. “I learned a long time ago that there are times when you can’t look too far down the road. This is one of those times.”

 

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Will asked wearily. “Without Magnus—”

 

“We keep fighting, just like she would have wanted.” Kate glared at him. “We kill as many of those things as we can. And we _live_.”

 

Her kiss didn’t exactly come as a surprise, but his response did. Will had believed himself too tired for anything other than bare survival. Kate’s mouth, warm and soft and sweet, demanded more than he thought he had to give, but Will rose to meet her challenge.

 

He gripped her shoulders, fingers digging into lean muscle, and she made a needy, hopeful sound.

 

“We can’t do this here,” Will whispered. “Someone could see us.”

 

“My room,” Kate replied. “Come on.”

 

He followed her, his heart hammering in his chest. “Kate—”

 

“Shut up,” she replied with some affection. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

 

Her room was tiny enough that she didn’t have to share. Will suspected that it had been a closet, but there was a rough pallet on the floor, and a few shelves where she kept her weapons and extra clothes—more weapons than clothes.

 

Of course, no one went out unarmed these days. One of the infected might come upon a person anywhere, and the unprepared died.

 

Magnus had been prepared, and she’d still died, but she’d been trying to save lives. That had to count for something, Will thought. Surely that had to count for something.

 

“You’re still thinking too much,” Kate observed, dropping her jacket onto the floor and pulling her t-shirt up over her head.

 

Will followed her lead, undressing quickly and efficiently. “I can’t help it.”

 

“Maybe I can.” Kate stroked his bare chest, and Will watched her hands—graceful and deadly. Some of the shock and grief of the last two days slipped away, replaced by a rising passion.

 

He touched her in return, tasted the skin of her neck, the salt of her sweat. When he nipped her shoulder, she gasped and urged him back onto the pile of blankets that served as her bed.

 

They didn’t speak; there was little left to say. They clung to each other now because there was no one and nothing left to cling to.

 

Afterwards, they lay on tangled sheets, side-by-side, her hand in his. “Promise me something,” she said quietly.

 

Will kept his eyes on the water-stained ceiling and wished he could pretend that he was asleep. He already knew what she was going to ask of him. “What is it?” he finally asked.

 

“If I get infected, make sure I don’t turn into one of _them_.”

 

He closed his eyes. “Kate—”

 

“Just promise me. You know I’d do the same for you.”

 

She would, too, and Will finally nodded. “Yeah, I promise. I’ll make sure.”

 

“Okay, good.” Kate rolled so that her forehead rested against his shoulder, freeing her hand to sling an arm across Will’s chest. “Stay here tonight?”

 

“Sure,” he replied and pulled her a little closer.

 

Maybe things would look brighter in the morning.


End file.
